


Scent

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, In Public, M/M, Marking, Porn, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles get down and dirty in a library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Banner by me.
> 
> Betaed by the lovely @aislinntlc. She is a darling, darling friend. 
> 
> I asked for porny ideas on Twitter. Library porn caught my attention. :P So yes, this is nothing but porn - except maybe a bit of feelings too because I cannot write stories without people being people and having actual feelings. They have them. Lots of them.

Stiles has a problem. There’s a very horny werewolf between his thighs, and they’re in a freaking library for crying out loud. There are people there. With eyes. And ears. And the librarian is like a dragon-lady with actual claws. 

He’s been afraid of her since he was ten. 

And how did this even happen? When? Because Stiles didn’t get the memo. He’s been in the dark the whole time. Werewolves don’t have crushes on him. _Nobody_ has a crush on him. He’s invisible to all the pretty ladies, and if there’s any truth in Danny’s reactions, he’s not attractive to gay guys either. 

Then what the hell is Derek doing because that there is his freaking mouth against Stiles’ neck, and those are his very sharp teeth nibbling at his skin. 

Stiles groans, then bites his lips because Derek hisses, pushing Stiles harder against the darkest corner of the library. They’d been looking for a certain book about witches because it’s possible there’s one in Beacon Hills, but instead Derek found Stiles’ neck and hasn’t stopped nuzzling it ever since. 

The neck thing was an accident. Stiles stumbled and fell, and Derek caught him. Things like that never happen except in romance novels and even then, it’s about kissing, not rutting and biting and nuzzling. The _animal_.

Derek takes a deep breath, his hands bruising hard against Stiles’ waist and ass, pulling him closer. Stiles’ brain short-circuits, an all-systems-failure hitting him so hard he can only grab at Derek and try to hold on. 

This never happens to him. This is not happening to him now. 

Derek Hale is not trying to fuck him through his clothes, pushing books out of the way, sitting Stiles on a tiny side table, spreading his legs. 

He wants a timeout because nobody drew him a diagram. The why of the matter needs to be investigated, but his brain matter is leaking out of his ears, and he can’t concentrate. He whines instead because Derek grabs his thighs and guides his legs around Derek’s waist, and that there is porn. 

“Wait... What... Oh my...” He groans, tilting his head to the side because Derek lick-bites him again, being way too thorough, making Stiles’ skin burn, and he swallows the rest of the words because who cares. He’s finally getting some action. 

Derek’s fingers dig into his scalp, tilt his head back, exposing his neck and throat, and Derek stares at him with dark heavy-lidded eyes. It’s the first time Derek shows he’s aware who he’s doing this with, and Stiles holds his breath, afraid that it’ll be over. Instead, Derek leans down and bites Stiles’ lower lip, pulls at it, still staring at Stiles, and it’s incredibly arousing. 

Stiles is very aware of his erection, and the fact that it’s pressing against Derek’s, and then Derek moves his hips slowly, his eyes locked with Stiles’. 

That makes him groan too loudly, and Derek presses a hand against his mouth to keep him quiet. Stiles licks the fingers because he can be a tease too, and the way Derek’s eyes darken more makes him want to squeal with joy. 

Once they get a rhythm going, Stiles is mortified because he’s going to come in the library in front of the evil dragon-lady, and he doesn’t even give a damn. He’s an exhibitionist as well as a little gay, and he seems to have a thing for biting. 

Derek gets a hand between them, opens the button and zipper of Stiles’ pants, and that’s just... that’s Derek’s fingers in his pants, touching his cock. _Someone else’s fingers._ He wants to faint because who the hell survives sensations like this? 

He’s glad of the hand over his mouth because he’s wailing. 

The hand on his cock is so warm and soft, and even though the angle is weird it feels so, so good. Stiles can’t breathe properly because his mind is too overworked to realize that his nose is perfectly good for breathing. He bites at Derek’s hand, and Derek releases his mouth, then shuts it with a kiss.

The tongue filling his mouth and the hand jerking his cock make him pant, make him kick with his legs and flail with his arms, and then he’s just grabbing Derek’s hair and neck as hard as he can because holy fuck, Derek knows how to kiss. 

Stiles groans into Derek’s mouth, bucking into his hand, and he knows the table is making too much noise, the legs scraping the floor, but he can’t even begin to care because Derek is fondling his private parts. 

A part of him really wants to know why this is happening, though, and he fears that the witch is real and has cursed Derek with Stiles-love. 

He pulls at Derek’s hair, trying to get him to look at him. This has to be solved. 

Derek growls, but lets Stiles pull him out of the kiss, and then Derek is staring down at him. 

“Are you you?” Stiles asks, whispering so loudly someone hushes at him. That gets him hushed? Really? 

Derek stares at him for a while, his hand stilled around Stiles’ cock, and that should be awkward, and it is, but Stiles doesn’t mind. He just wants an answer. It’s a supernatural world where anything can happen, and he’s not going to take advantage of a friend. 

Derek looks sly when he says, “You can’t imagine me liking you? It has to be a spell?”

“Why now?” he blurts out, his voice high. 

“Because you responded for the first time.” 

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and then he just stares at Derek with wide eyes. “You smelled me? You... You _spy!_ ” 

Derek grins, then shifts closer, scenting Stiles’ neck. “Yeah...” It’s a long word, and Derek sounds so pleased that Stiles can’t be angry. 

It’s a good thing because at that moment, Derek tightens his hold on Stiles’ cock and starts jacking it. And since this is really Derek and they are really doing this now, Stiles bites down on Derek’s neck, trying to silence himself. It’s a brilliant idea because Derek growls next to Stiles’ cheek and presses their bodies closer together.

Stiles gets his hand between their bodies, pushing Derek’s too-tight pants down and getting his hands under Derek’s boxers and over his very firm ass. He has no idea when Derek opened his pants, but he’s going to write sonnets to Derek for this amazing ability to think ahead. 

And then Stiles loses all his thought processes because Derek wraps his hand around them both, and Derek’s cock feels silky against his own, the skin so soft he’s never felt anything like it. 

Stiles presses his face harder against Derek’s neck, panting there, nibbling at the sweaty skin, and it’s too good. He can’t hold back, can’t stop the tingling of the orgasm. He can’t even breathe now because Derek is jerking them faster, hitting Stiles’ stomach with his fist, and when Derek tenses Stiles only has a second to prepare for the feeling of warm wetness between their bodies, and then he’s coming all over Derek’s fist and their stomachs, his body jerking, his mind shutting down. 

“God, you smell good,” Derek whispers, biting Stiles’ ear gently. Derek hasn’t let go of them, but his hand has stilled, holding them in a loose fist. “Love the way your scent curls around me.”

Derek sounds like he’s drugged, and it would be fascinating if most of Stiles wasn’t totally out of it. His face is still hidden in Derek’s neck, and even though drying come is not a wonderful accessory he doesn’t want to move. He’s way too satisfied. 

“Let me...” Derek says, licking a trail to Stiles collarbone. He finally lets go of them, planting his come-filled hand on Stiles’ neck. Stiles would protest if his brain was working, but he just wants to be touched and scented and nuzzled. It’s all good. “Let me... mark you.”

He doesn’t know what Derek wants, but he nods against Derek’s shoulder, pleased. He wants to be marked. He wants to be owned and renamed. Derek can do whatever he wants. 

He distantly wonders if werewolf-orgasms can totally befuddle you. 

Stiles expects a bite, but what he gets is a nail behind his ear, scratching him, not even tearing the skin open, just pressing against his skin hard enough to hurt. He stays still, holding his breath, letting Derek do what he clearly needs to do. Derek pushes Stiles’ head against the wall, their eyes locking, and even Stiles can smell the sex they’ve been having. Derek’s fingers smell of spunk, and they are now gripping Stiles’ chin, holding him in place. 

He’s never been so quiet in his life. He doesn’t dare to make a sound because Derek is marking him, and he has no idea what it means. 

Derek trails Stiles’ neck with his nail, down to his throat and up to his jaw, and Stiles is starting to realize what is going on. 

The wolf is a predator, and Stiles is its weak prey, but Derek is somehow showing to the wolf that this human is theirs. The nail goes over all the weakest parts of Stiles’ body, all those points that could easily be torn open. 

Stiles would die, and the wolf knows it. 

When it’s over Derek bites Stiles’ chin, presses their faces too close, and it feels like a quiet promise: _We are together._ Stiles has no idea how that happened, but he’s willing to find out. He grabs the back of Derek’s head and holds him there, showing Derek that he understands. 

The soft growl that he gets for an answer makes him smile. _His_ animal.


End file.
